It was four years ago on February 2, 2009 that I made the first post on this blog, a blog I had hoped would let me practice and speak openly about my love of everything science fiction and fantasy related. Looking back at my first post, I realize that these efforts haven’t been completely in vain. I have yet to be published or write a story that I am comfortable even calling a true story, but in terms of writing there is improvement  Reading over my first post, which was the first installment of a zombie-like story, I noticed sever things that I feel could have done better, thing that would be noticeable absent in my writing these days, things like the repetitive use of some words. But yes, as always, there is still work to be done. In any event Happy Birthday to…me, may there be many more.

Lights Out (Originally Published 2.2.09)

“Turn out the lights!” The man screamed as he rushed to fill the 12-gauge shotgun. His hands trembled uncontrollably as he slid down the cold concrete of the basement wall to the floor with the shotgun propped open across his lap. Julian watched with gritting teeth as the first shell fell from his grasp and rolled under a nearby workbench. After a brief moment, he collected himself, loaded the double barrel with two shells and pumped it as the lights in the basement went out.

“Over there, in the corner,” he whispered. In the dark he heard her struggle to find her away around, dumping and dropping things that crashed to the floor in loud, audible clanks and bangs as she made her way between two workbenches into the corner.

Once Julian knew that she was safely in her corner, he lowered the shotgun towards the locked and basement door, the bottom of which was the source of the only light which blazed through the small bottom crack like a blazing inferno.

They had stumbled across the house by accident, it didn’t belong to Julian or his wife, Mary-Ann, and the owners where know where to be found. After an hour of running through the woods, the abandon house seemed like a God send, and when they made there way inside, the sturdy Oak door with the two dead-bolts that lead down to the basement seemed like a God send, too. Now, as Julian looked around he realized that the only way to escape the basement if things didn’t go according to plan, was through the same door which lead down half a dozen steps into the basement – Julian began to wonder if this was a smart move.

Julian looked over in the direction in which he heard his wife’s sobs coming from and then back towards the door, watching and waiting for the blazing light at the bottom to go out, to be extinguished, by whom or whatever it was that had chased them through the woods and forced them to take refuge inside this house.

Julian wouldn’t call them Zombies, they seemed neither interested in eating them or curious about who or what they were, the seemed focused only on killing them. They had no missing limbs and where not covered in blood like Zombies often are in the movies, there was just something in their eyes that hinted at. . . madness, and ruthlessness. The few that they had encountered – on the road, before Julian and his wife lost control of their car and drove into a ditch – had bloodshot eyes and an evil sneer that covered their face at the first sight of them. They watched in horror as these. . . things ripped the limbs off a man trying to get away, that was when he realized that this was no simple gang of thugs, that this was something different, something. . . that caused a human being to boil over with hate and anger, so much so that they could tear a person to peaces in a matter of moments.

As Julian sat there listening to his own thoughts and breathing he saw it, a shadow temporarily blocked out the light blazing through the bottom of the door. Then, as he sat there, watching intently this time, he saw it again.

They’re coming, they’re here, he thought to himself as he leveled the shotgun at the locked door.

“Shhhh,” he whispered over to Mary-Ann in the corner as the door knob slowly turned and the door rattled against the dead-bolts, “shhhh.”

For rest of the story, look here.

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